"Shit!" Hugo swore, as he grappled with the door lock. "Shit.
It's locked!" The blond was still screaming. He fumbled for the light
cord and with trembling fingers pulled it but nothing happened. "Shit!"
he yelled. The main corridor light switch must have been flicked. He kicked
the door.

There was
screaming from the room opposite and high pitched screaming from his own
room.

"Shut
the fuck up," he yelled at the blond.

"I'm
shot," she moaned, "I'm shot!" Hugo cast an eye at her
through the dim light.

"No,
you're not," he brushed her aside. "It came from the cabin on
the other side of the corridor." Hugo cast his mind back. What was
the name of that cabin? Thirty something... Then it came to him. It was
33B. Suddenly he remembered. "Oh my god, Madeline!"

"What?"
the blonde looked up from her sobbing.

"The
cabin in which the shot was fired was 33B! Madeline said her room was
33-B! She may be shot!" He ran towards the door. "Madeline!
Madeline!"

"Who
the fuck is Madeline?" she snapped.

"She
may be dead!" Hugo yelled. He started hammering on the door. "Help!
We need some help in here!"

The blonde
dramatically collapsed on the floor. "I may be dying!" she yelled.
"Had you thought about that!" Hugo turned, exasparated. "You're
not dying," he snapped. "There's no blood, no bullet. Can't
you fucking see that? It's not that dark in here!"

"How
would you know!" she shrieked. "You're not dying!"

"No,
but Madeline might be! Now shut the fuck up and let me clear my head!"

After what
seemed like an eternity, the train stopped. Hugo could hear passengers'
muffled gasps and shrieks. There was a murmuring and Hugo heard a man's
voice shouting.

"Stand
aside, clear away, let me through! I'm the conductor here!" It was
Utley. Hugo started hammering on the door.

"Help!
We're locked in here! Let us out!" he yelled. "There's no key,"
he heard Utley say on the other side of the door. "Stand aside. We'll
break it down."

Hugo grabbed
the blonde and pulled her to the very back of the broom cupboard. After
several attempts in which the door merely stood fast and creaked, Utley
and two other male passengers successfully kicked it down. Utley hurried
over to them. Hugo stood up and let him through to the blonde.

"Are
you okay, Miss?" he asked, pulling her up.

"You've
got to save Madeline!" Hugo yelled.

"Is
she Madeline?" Utley looked at the sobbing blonde.

"No,
she's Pam!" Hugo sighed. The blonde shook her touseled hair and leant
against the conductor.

"No,"
she whispered dramatically. "I'm Sam Randall." The conductor
threw down his hands.

"Who
the fuck are you two?" he yelled in exasperation. Hugo grabbed him
by the shoulders.

"I'm
Hugo Kirby, she's Sam or Pam, it makes no difference, for the one who
I'm trying to tell you to find is Madeline! She's in Room 33-B where the
fucking shot was heard!"

The conductor
pushed Hugo away. He pointed to the porters. "You, go check on Room
33-B with him. And you, go turn the main lights on" He looked at
the blonde again. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"No,"
she whispered. "I think I'm shot!"

"She's
just in shock," Hugo explained. "It's Madeline who may be in
danger."

Utley gestured
to another porter. Take this lady to a compartment where she can recover.
The rest of you, go back to your rooms. There's nothing to see here."
The crowd of people filed back down the corridors, murmuring amongst themselves.
Hugo and Utley, who was holding a torch, went across to the door of Room
33-B where the porters were knocking on the door.

"Miss?"
one of them asked. "Are you alright in there?" Utley pushed
them away impatiently. "Leave them to me," he said. He knocked
on the door. "Miss," he consulted his papers, "Miss...Cross?
Open the door, I'm the conductor. "

There was
no reply. Hugo could hear sobbing. The conductor tried again. "Miss
Cross, open this door at once! I am William Utley, the conductor. Let
me in at once, I say!" Still no answer. Angrily, Utley tried the
door. The handle turned and the door opened at once surprisingly, making
Utley stumble into the room. But what was in the room, was even more surprising.
Hugo gasped.

There, on
the plush carpet of the luxurious room, lay Madeline, in a way that Hugo
had seen her many times before. Naked. She was crouched over someone,
sobbing. Both Utley and Hugo ran forward and helped Madeline onto a chair.
They turned around to see who lay there on the carpet.

One of the
porters fainted. The other ran out to be sick. Utley gulped, his face
Hugo gasped again. He recognized the black porter, this time without his
porter's uniform. And this time with a bullet hole right through his heart
and blood pouring on to the white plush carpet "Shit!" Hugo
swore, as he grappled with the door lock. "Shit. It's locked!"
The blond was still screaming. He fumbled for the light cord and with
trembling fingers pulled it but nothing happened. "Shit!" he
yelled. The main corridor light switch must have been flicked. He kicked
the door.

There was
screaming from the room opposite and high pitched screaming from his own
room.

"Shut
the fuck up," he yelled at the blond.

"I'm
shot," she moaned, "I'm shot!" Hugo cast an eye at her
through the dim light.

"No,
you're not," he brushed her aside. "It came from the cabin on
the other side of the corridor." Hugo cast his mind back. What was
the name of that cabin? Thirty something... Then it came to him. It was
33B. Suddenly he remembered. "Oh my god, Madeline!"

"What?"
the blonde looked up from her sobbing.

"The
cabin in which the shot was fired was 33B! Madeline said her room was
33-B! She may be shot!" He ran towards the door. "Madeline!
Madeline!"

"Who
the fuck is Madeline?" she snapped.

"She
may be dead!" Hugo yelled. He started hammering on the door. "Help!
We need some help in here!"

The blonde
dramatically collapsed on the floor. "I may be dying!" she yelled.
"Had you thought abou that!" Hugo turned, exasparated. "You're
not dying," he snapped. "There's no blood, no bullet. Can't
you fucking see that? It's not that dark in here!"

"How
would you know!" she shrieked. "You're not dying!"

"No,
but Madeline might be! Now shut the fuck up and let me clear my head!"

After what
seemed like an eternity, the train stopped. Hugo could hear passengers'
muffled gasps and shrieks. There was a murmuring and Hugo heard a man's
voice shouting.

"Stand
aside, clear away, let me through! I'm the conductor here!" It was
Utley. Hugo started hammering on the door.

"Help!
We're locked in here! Let us out!" he yelled. "There's no key,"
he heard Utley say on the other side of the door. "Stand aside. We'll
break it down."

Hugo grabbed
the blonde and pulled her to the very back of the broom cupboard. After
several attempts in which the door merely stood fast and creaked, Utley
and two other male passengers successfully kicked it down. Utley hurried
over to them. Hugo stood up and let him through to the blonde.

"Are
you okay, Miss?" he asked, pulling her up.

"You've
got to save Madeline!" Hugo yelled.

"Is
she Madeline?" Utley looked at the sobbing blonde.

"No,
she's Pam!" Hugo sighed. The blonde shook her touseled hair and leant
against the conductor.

"No,"
she whispered dramatically. "I'm Sam Randall." The conductor
threw down his hands.

"Who
the fuck are you two?" he yelled in exasperation. Hugo grabbed him
by the shoulders.

"I'm
Hugo Kirby, she's Sam or Pam, it makes no difference, for the one who
I'm trying to tell you to find is Madeline! She's in Room 33-B where the
fucking shot was heard!"

The conductor
pushed Hugo away. He pointed to the porters. "You, go check on Room
33-B with him. And you, go turn the main lights on" He looked at
the blonde again. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"No,"
she whispered. "I think I'm shot!"

"She's
just in shock," Hugo explained. "It's Madeline who may be in
danger."

Utley gestured
to another porter. Take this lady to a compartment where she can recover.
The rest of you, go back to your rooms. There's nothing to see here."
The crowd of people filed back down the corridors, murmuring amongst themselves.
Hugo and Utley, who was holding a torch, went across to the door of Room
33-B where the porters were knocking on the door.

"Miss?"
one of them asked. "Are you alright in there?" Utley pushed
them away impatiently. "Leave them to me," he said. He knocked
on the door. "Miss," he consulted his papers, "Miss...Cross?
Open the door, I'm the conductor. "

There was
no reply. Hugo could hear sobbiing. The conductor tried again. "Miss
Cross, open this door at once! I am William Utley, the conductor. Let
me in at once, I say!" Still no answer. Angrily, Utley tried the
door. The handle turned and the door opened at once surprisingly, making
Utley stumble into the room. But what was in the room, was even more surprising.
Hugo gasped.

There, on
the plush carpet of the luxurious room, lay Madeline, in a way that Hugo
had seen her many times before. Naked. She was crouched over someone,
sobbing. Both Utley and Hugo ran forward and helped Madeline onto a chair.
They turned around to see who lay there on the carpet.

One of the
porters fainted. The other ran out to be sick. Utley gulped, his face
Hugo gasped again. He recognized the black porter, this time without his
porter's uniform. And this time with a bullet hole right through his heart
and blood pouring on to the white plush carpet.

Utley went
white. With his voice shaking, he called for more porters. Three came
in running and gasped at the sight of the porter James Brown. "You,
boy," Utley told him. "Go to my private compartment. There's
a, there's a telephone in there. Call ahead to the next top, that's Los
Angeles, and tell them what is happening. You, you go to the driver and
inform him of the circumstances. Tell him to start up the train again
and to make full speed to LA." Both porters ran off quickly. He gestured
to the third. "And you, go through all the coaches and rooms and
try to find a doctor, nurse or anyone who can help. And bring the medical
kit." He paused. "This boy is going to need it..."

Hugo went
over to Madeline who was crying in her chair, and gave her her clothes.
She quickly pulled them on, her fingers trembling, and hugged him.

"If
you ask me, she's lying, Barry!" one of the policemen called to the
cop.

"Well
I'm not askin you, I'm askin' her," the police inspector glared at
Madeline, who sat next to Hugo on the opposite side of the desk. The police
inspector leaned over on his desk. His name tag read Inspector B. Owner.

"So,
Miss Cross, all we've gotten out of you is your name and the name of your
friend here. Well my name's Barry Owner, I'm 6ft two, I'm a police inspector
and I'll 'ave you fucking thrown into the cells if you're not more talkative.
So go on, we're," he nodded to the officers behind him, "we're
listening. Tell us more." he said, mockingly.

"Oh,
I see." Owner got up and walked around Hugo and Madeline, breathing
heavily on her neck. She fidgeted nervously in her seat. He sat down again.
"Now, would you care to shed some light on why you were in your room
with a black porter?"

"He
- I called him in to ask him to bring me some tea," Madeline said
hesitantly, her eyes conveniently fixed on the patterns on the ceiling.

Madeline
looked from one face to another. "He wasn't raping me, if that's
what you mean," she declared defensively.

"Are
you telling us you fucked a <i>black</i> porter willingly,
Miss Cross?" Owner whispered softly, yet somewhat menacingly at the
same time. Madeline nodded defiantly. Like Hugo, she believed there to
be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately Inspector B. Owner and his fellow
policemen obviously took a different view.

Owner again
got up from his seat and slowly walked over until he was directly behind
Madeline. She squirmed as she felt his hot breath on her bare neck.

"Whore..."
he hissed at her. She tensed up and closed her eyes tight. Owner leaned
over and ripped her blouse right open.

"I'd
be careful about what you say, Mr. Kirby, about what I, a police Inspector,
can and can not do. Otherwise you may find yourself spending a considerable
amount of your time down in our humble cells. And they're not as comfortable
as the Station Hotel, I am sorry to say." He motioned to the police
guards. "Chain him to the bench over there."

"Stop!"
Hugo cried as the four police officers descended upon him, the front one
wielding a shiny pair of silver handcuffs. "You can't do this!"
But he was powerless to stop them all and soon found himself attached
to the uncomfortable bench, forced to watch as Owner tore off the rest
of Madeline's black blouse. Off went her black skirt too, just as quickly.
Madeline sat there, motionless, quietly whimpering. Inspector Owner was
obviously happy at the lack of resistance.

"Good,"
he sneered. "A slut who knows what's good for her!" He pointed
to Hugo. "You should take lessons from this nigger fucking whore
here, Mr Kirby!" Hugo closed his eyes, not wanting to see the injustices
which were bound to follow.

Madeline
felt her bra being gently taken off and lifted over her head. How can
they do this, she sobbed to herself. She knew there was nothing she could
do and would could only hope it would be over soon. Soon she felt her
knickers and tights being removed. She closed her eyes, unable to gaze
at her soon to be rapist.

Inspector
Owner laughed at the sight of his helpless victim. Her underwear was removed,
leaving her cold and naked on the iron chair. Her eyes were still tightly
closed and so she didn't see him take out his dick. She did feel herself
being lifted from the chair and being thrown onto the floor, where she
began crying to herself. She was Miss 1956, 57 and hopefully 58 of Class
Act magazine. How could he do this to her? But there was no point in resisting.
He had the power, she did not, and they both knew that.

She winced
as he landed on top of her, pinching her breasts. Roughly, he shoved his
dick into her and she bit her lip, trying not to squeal in pain. Her head
banged on the cold metal floor as he pounded into her, again, and again.
Just when she believed the nightmare would never ever end, he tensed up
and filled her with all of his cum. Madeline felt tears trickling down
her face. My god, she screamed to herself. I better not get pregnant with
this bastard's child!

The Inspector
pulled out of her and threw her her clothes. She sat up, surprised that
it was over so early. "Normally," he told her, "I would
offer you to my friends here, but we're busy with other things tonight,
so shove on your clothes. I hope that's taught you a lesson not to give
your filthy body to even filthier black bastards~!"

Quickly,
Madeline pulled on her clothes for the second time that night. Hugo was
unchained and they were both roughly handled out of the room and towards
the exit.

"Is
that it? Aren't you going to try and find the murderer?" Hugo asked
in disbelief. Madeline clung on to him, still sobbing. Owner laughed.

"Why
bother? He did a good thing, killing that nigger. The black porter was
punished by being shot, and - "

"For
what?" Hugo yelled. "For being black?" Owner laughed.

"Spot
on, Mr. Kirby," he smiled. "And this slut here has just been
punished for sleeping with such vermin. And good day to you."

The door
was slammed in their faces. Hugo and Madeline walked down back into the
streets. They carried on walking in silence, both contemplating what had
just happened. Finally, Hugo cleared his throat and looked at her. "The
conductor said our luggage would be taken to the Station Hotel. We should
go and collect them."

Madeline
nodded silently. They continued on, not speaking a word. Then, Hugo stopped.
"What were you doing in there with a porter, Madeline?"

"What
the fuck do you think I was doing?" "Fucking a porter in your
room, you could have lost him his job!" "No," Madeline
retorted sharply. "No. Instead, I cost him his life."

Hugo felt
guilty for interrogating her. He could see tears in her eyes. She was
obviously feeling extremely guilty. Not knowing what else to say, he told
her," You shouldn't blame your self, Madeline."

Madeline
looked up at him. "What else can I do?" she said softly. "It
was my fault he was in there in the first place, I persuaded him to, to..."
she broke off, unable to look at Hugo. Hugo motioned for her to continue.
"We were in there, doing, you know, and then suddenly the lights
went out. I heard the door open fiercely and then the shot. I, I felt
James go limp and he slipped from my grasp. I screamed and looked up."

"What
did you see?" Hugo asked.

"No,
I didn't see who ever it was clearly. It was dark, and I could just barely
make out a figure slipping out of the door. Then someone else screamed
and I then carried on screaming and screaming..."

Hugo looked
at her, pale. Madeline sighed. "I don't understand," she whispered.
"I don't understand why anyone would want to kill him. He was merely
a young black porter. No one cares about them. Why would someone want
to shoot him?"

Hugo suddenly
stiffened. Madeline noticed this and looked at him. "What's wrong?"
she asked. Hugo grabbed her hand and broke into a run, pulling her behind
with him. "What's wrong?" she cried out again. Then it dawned
upon her. "You don't think, no you can't." She paused. "You
don't think the killer was aiming at me do you?"

Hugo turned.
"Why would anyone want to kill an unknown, considered inferior, porter?
When there was you, heiress, rich with all your modeling fees and likely
candidate for Miss 1958? A shot in the dark missed you and hit the porter,
with whom you were unfortunately entwined with, rolling on the floor.
Yes, the shot was obviously aimed at you. We must get you to safety quickly,
because..."

He looked
onto the street, which was dark and deserted. The streetlights were dull,
no match for the midnight darkness which had descended on the street.
A dog's howl could be heard and the welcoming lights of the hotel were
faint distant glows, too far. Hugo sighed.

"Because...
when whoever tried to kill you finds out that he missed, will surely be
after you again..."